The Beginning of the Beginning (Drabble)
by FartFerret69
Summary: “You can’t see the ground at night?” His frown deepened. “No, not especially well.” At this, the optometrist grew quiet. She retreated to her clipboard to take notes, and Kyoya was uncertain of what had caused it, but it was as though the air in the tiny, dimly-lit room had suddenly become much heavier.


**In the spirit of documenting some of my thoughts on Kyoya's life and sequence of events, I have decided to take on a small project of drabbles to settle into the routine of writing and put some of my ideas into words. These will be largely based on headcanons, so look forward to discussions on his vision, love life, career trajectory, life choices, and much, much more.**

"Kyoya, your father tells me you do not like the dark lately."

The optometrist sat primly with her pen poised over a clipboard, peering at him over a pair of Librarian's glasses. Kyoya frowned at her from his place in the padded patient's chair.

"No, ma'am. I'm not afraid of the dark, if that's what you mean."

"I see," she said, pausing to adjust her skirt. "He mentions that you have been walking more slowly at night, and also says that you tripped on your front steps just two nights ago. Do you feel this is true?"

Kyoya could feel her analyzing him more closely now, searching his expressions for something—he wasn't sure what. He faltered slightly under her scrutiny, unsure what he had led her to believe, but decided that honesty would be the wisest course.

"Well, yes, but the evenings have been getting quite dark lately, and I don't think it's out of the ordinary to trip occasionally when you can't see the ground very well."

"You can't see the ground at night?"

His frown deepened.

"No, not especially well."

At this, the optometrist grew quiet. She retreated to her clipboard to take notes, and Kyoya was uncertain of what had caused it, but it was as though the air in the tiny, dimly-lit room had suddenly become much heavier. He felt himself tense involuntarily in response, and when she finally looked up at him again, it was with a new element of what he could only describe as trepidation behind her librarian's glasses.

"Kyoya, I would like to run through a few more tests and examinations with you, if that's all right. I will let your parents know as well."

They had spent the rest of the afternoon in near silence, the primly-dressed doctor only speaking to direct him to machines and ask what he could see, and Kyoya only speaking to answer. He had not known the names of any of the machines that were used, nor did he know the purpose of any of the tests he had taken, and at the end of it all he had not known the contents of the hushed conversation the optometrist had had with his father in the room he had just been asked to step outside of or why his parents had been particularly quiet for the rest of the day.

And he did not know why, two weeks later, he had been sitting in another padded patient's chair in the office of a world renowned specialist, being subjected two several hours worth of more complex and unfamiliar testing and examination than before. His eyes had been scanned, photographed, dilated, and he didn't even know what else, and he had stared at flashing lights and infrared and a host of other unknown things before the session had concluded. His eyes had been thoroughly exhausted, and he had found himself face-to-face with the ophthalmologist at the end, feeling not unlike he had in the tiny room with the woman with the librarian's glasses.

Kyoya sat quietly in the patient's chair. The ophthalmologist seemed to be engrossed in his notes from the day, and if the man had not ushered him into the room all of five minutes earlier, Kyoya could have thought that the doctor had no idea that he was waiting there across from him as several more minutes of heavy silence had passed before the man showed any signs of acknowledging him again.

But the man did eventually resurface, and when he did, looked Kyoya directly in the eyes and turned entirely away from the desk that held his notebook.

"I apologize for the wait. But rest assured you have my full attention now."

"It's no problem," Kyoya said, nodding.

The ophthalmologist leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, and he seemed to consider Kyoya for a moment, perhaps considering how to engage with a 10-year-old. When he did speak, it was with a measured calm.

"Kyoya, have your parents had any discussions with you about why you are here today?"

"No."

The doctor seemed to take this in before he continued.

"I'd like to tell you a bit about a condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa. We'll just refer to it as 'RP' for now. Correct me if I'm wrong, but according to your parents, you have a very difficult time seeing things in the dark, correct?" When Kyoya nodded, he went on. "Did you know that that isn't entirely normal?"

Kyoya frowned for what felt like the onehundredth time since the previous appointment. For the first time, he felt as though he was beginning to understand, even if only in the broadest, most vague sense possible. He had suspected that something must have been wrong of course, but it was now being placed directly in front of him in unmistakable terms.

"I'm going to guess that you did not," said the ophthalmologist. "You see, it is normal for most people to have a slightly difficult time seeing in the dark, but what you consider to be dark and what most other people consider to be dark are quite a bit different. This is because of that RP, which we believe you have. One of the first symptoms that most people experience when they have RP is what we call 'night blindness,' which means that you can be rendered nearly totally blind in the dark."

"I… had no idea." Kyoya sat, altogether slightly stunned, in the padded chair. Never had he ever imagined that his difficulty with the dark had been anything less than ordinary. "So you're saying that I have some sort of darkness disease?"

"Well, yes, but it's also a bit more complicated than that." When Kyoya continued to stare at the man silently, he went on. "RP doesn't just affect you when it's dark. That's the first thing you will notice, but it comes with some other vision problems, too. The most notable thing that happens to people who have RP is that they will start to lose the vision around the edges of their eyes, what we call peripheral vision. It gets worse over time, so after several years, a person may be completely unable to see anything in his or her peripheral vision and can only see through what looks like a tunnel left in the center. And that vision in the center often starts to get worse as well, making things much more blurry as time goes on."

The ophthalmologist seemed to decide that it would be a good time to pause and allow Kyoya to take in everything that he had just been told. The room fell very quiet, the doctor watching patiently as Kyoya thought, and thought he did. He thought back to the previous appointment and began to wonder if this was the reason for the way the optometrist had been so quiet near the end, if this was the reason for his parents' cryptic conversations and even the way the ophthalmologist seemed to tread gently over his explanation, as if Kyoya might burst into tears if he broke the news too bluntly. It suddenly all made sense—all the pitying looks from the doctors and mysterious silence on the subject from his family. This is what they had all been avoiding, what they had all been afraid of.

"And I have this?"

"We think so. Your parents have authorized some genetic testing to be sure, but we are fairly certain this is the case, yes. It looks to be progressing still at a fairly slow rate right now though, so I imagine you won't start noticing those other things for several years."

And that was the only information that Kyoya had received on blindness that day. He had left the appointment in a quiet state of thought and remain that way for the rest of the evening. He had had no way of knowing that there were options, tools he could use, people he could meet who would like him, who could teach him how to do things. Life went on in the Ootori household, but he had no way of knowing the truth of how he could think about RP, and would not find out for a number of years.

 **Disclaimer: written by a blind person with more positive portrayal to come.**


End file.
